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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26714686">The Untouchable Number 9 and the Mandela Mystics</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbright_Synergie/pseuds/Starbright_Synergie'>Starbright_Synergie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Issues, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Issues, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Sparrow Academy Student Ben Hargreeves, Umbrella Academy - Freeform, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:27:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26714686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbright_Synergie/pseuds/Starbright_Synergie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you experienced a glitch in the universe? </p><p>                                     Events that should have happened but didn’t in your reality?</p><p>                      Or need confirmation that you haven’t felt these glitches in time all by yourself? </p><p>                                          Then Welcome, dear user, to the Mandela Mystics. </p><p>                                      A place where you can always be in the fullness of time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allison Hargreeves &amp; Luther Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts, Klaus Hargreeves/Original Character(s), Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) &amp; Original Character(s), Vanya Hargreeves/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone!  This will be my very first fanfic on AO3!  There are just a couple of things to cover here: I've tagged this as a freeform type of work because I will be taking some influences from TUA Comics and the TV Series as this work will end up taking place after the events of season 2.   Therefore, I will be taking some liberties with the names of The Sparrow Academy members, but those will be changed if the 4th volume comes out within this year (and well, if it doesn't, then the names will eventually be changed).  The first few chapters will be focusing on the background of the original characters I've come up with (along with a couple of surprises along the way) to help flesh out the ideas I've had for this story.  And if I've forgotten any tags, I will be putting them later on.  Also, there will always be song suggestions at the end!   </p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or storyline of The Umbrella Academy, who were created by Gerard Way.  The following story is purely fictional and is not to be associated with the main storylines in either comic or TV form.  The only claim I have is to the original characters seen within the story as they are of my own creation.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Prelude</em>
</p><p>On October 1<sup>st</sup>, 1989, a young newlywed couple from the United States were out on their honeymoon in Mexico.  The couple had a lovely day of hiking before going back to Mexico City where they had a lovely lunch, but the day was interrupted by the most mysterious of circumstances.  The wife suddenly gave birth to a little girl. </p><p>As the young couple were a prominent pair of New York society (or so the locals working in the hotel they stayed at had heard), they were absolutely mortified at the possibility of a scandal as soon as they arrived home.  In a panic, they took the child to the nearest church with a big fat check in the nuns would take the newborn off their hands no questions asked.  The parents left before the nuns asked them if they would like to name her.  One of the restaurant workers who witnessed the event, followed the couple, and told the nuns what happened when they left. </p><p>“It was incredible!  The wife showed no signs of being pregnant, I tell you.  And then she was having contractions right in the middle of my restaurant!  It was like…like witnessing a miracle!”      </p><p>From that day on, the miraculous child was named, “Gloria.”   </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>October 1, 2003</em>
</p><p>Life in Mexico City was not so bad for Gloria.  The nuns took her to the Casa de Esperanza Perpetua for orphans where the workers supplied a place for her to sleep and eat and some basic education needs.  So, her time was spent at the orphanage, Saint Teresita Church-mainly to appease the nuns that took her in with religious studies on Wednesdays and Sundays, and the Restaurante Dorado for what she thought as “practical life experiences” on Saturdays when she was old enough to help around with cleaning chores. She loved overhearing gossip from the locals whenever she helped clean tables, and she absolutely loved it when she could help in the kitchen.  The owner- an old woman with a big personality named Maria (often called Maria Dorada, even though her last name was Vargas) supervised Gloria’s time in the kitchen when she turned 9.  Every birthday spent there, Tia Maria always gave her something special and the story of her birth. </p><p>“I’m telling you, nina, it was one of the most bizarre things I ever saw.  I think your-“ she lowered her voice, “parents thought it was brujeria-“ then raised it back to a normal level, “but I think it was nothing short of a miracle!  Not especially when you’ve been such a good girl, Gloria.”  The old woman tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. </p><p>Gloria was on the scrawny side for a 13-year old.   There wasn’t a lot to eat at the orphanage, which is why she was grateful to work at the place she was born in.  It was always nice to leave the place with a full stomach, even if she picked up phrases such as “She has time to fill out” from other adults (whatever that meant).  Some of the kids from the orphanage were drawn to her and looked up to her “Because you’re so pretty!”  as they would exclaim.  Whenever she looked in the mirror, there wasn’t much to complain.  Gloria had large, round, blue eyes, a wide smile with a slight overbite and a small gap between her two front teeth, long, frizzy ash blonde hair, along with average features despite being a bit malnourished.  There was a bit of freckling across her cheeks on her light, pinkish skin, but that’s only because she refused to wear a hat when the weather wasn’t boiling hot.  Sometimes, Tia Maria would scold her for not wearing sunscreen if she would see Gloria’s shoulders, arms, and legs nearly red as a lobster from not putting any on a hot summer day, but she just laughed it off.  It might not have been much, but she felt more comfortable having tanned (if not “accidentally burnt”) skin than her light, pink skin as it was a reminder that she did not look like the majority of the kids at the orphanage. </p><p>But there wasn’t any room for being uncomfortable today.  It was her thirteenth birthday, and she was going to be enjoying it the best she could!  Some of the kids that felt close to her showered her with love and affection.  She had a special lunch which consisted of having an extra side of arroz con leche and a small cup of very diluted coffee as a treat.  The games that were played in the courtyard with the other orphans were ones she could pick out, and a couple of nuns from the church stopped by to give her a gift.  Normally, they’d allow a small crowd to gather round as she opened a couple of boxes which contained new clothes, hygiene products, and one toy.  This year however, there was only one box that contained a simple dress with a red flower print all over and new tennis shoes.  After the kids dispersed, the nuns took her to the director’s office, making her confused.  </p><p>“Gloria, mija,” The nun with pretty, black eyes she knew by name, it was Isabella.  “We’ve received a very special request from two people who wanted to give you gifts.  Gifts that can’t be opened quite yet.” </p><p>Gloria tilted her head, “Two people?  Who are they?  What are the gifts?” </p><p>The other nun with grey eyes was someone who she didn’t fully recognize, but she was older.  Much older than Isabelle and cleared her throat.  “The first one is from Maria Vargas-“ this made Gloria’s face light up, “-and will be used at the beginning of next year.”  The girl’s smile was short lived.  Isabelle quickly picked up the rest of the news, “But the other present is…that you have a sponsor!  A sponsor that wishes you to have a formal education in America!” </p><p>It took some time for the news to register.  Her brows furrowed in confusion.  “Why am I going to study in America?”  The nuns looked at each other, before the older nun spoke.</p><p>“The sponsor wishes to remain anonymous, but thought it was in everyone’s best interest that you started to form a life over in America.  They have relatives in Texas.  Dallas, Texas to be precise.  Which is where you will stay for the next four years for a high school education.  We have confirmed that you are able to manage studies well, but it’s always a dream for any citizen of Mexico to have a nice education.  Is it not, Sister Isabella?”  She gave a look to the younger nun with a question that secretly meant “Do not question my statement.”  Sister Isabella understood the emphasis correctly. </p><p>“O-oh, si, Sister Beatriz!  It is very important to have such a nice education!  That way, you will be able to support your family wherever you are!”   Gloria was still confused. </p><p>“Sisters…Will I be able to come back to Mexico?”  It was brief, but she saw Sister Isabella’s smile droop a little bit.  The younger nun didn’t have a chance to speak as the older nun coughed.</p><p>“It is best if you try to integrate yourself in the American culture, dear Gloria.  Your bright constitution will be…more appreciated there.  Angels have come to help you my child.  Isn’t it nice that God has placed you on this glorious path?” </p><p>Gloria pursed her lips together for a bit.  She had so many more questions, but whenever the nuns and priests talked about God’s plan or will, that was not to be questioned any further.  If she could get answers out of anyone, though, it’d be Tia Maria.</p><p>Saturday finally arrived, Tia Maria could only give her a smile…yet it didn’t reach the light in her eyes like it normally did.  “I am giving you a good gift, dear.  Trust me.  It’s something I wish I could have done for my children when they were your age.  Now, they have grandchildren of their own and have better opportunities.  I’ve…always thought of you as another grandchild.”  She let out a small sigh as she brewed a fresh pot of coffee.  “I just hate I can’t afford to truly adopt you, with so many of my family feeding from the same pot as they say.”  The biggest emotion Gloria could process was confusion, but she knew what Tia Maria was saying was out of love.  She wrapped her arms around her into a big hug.</p><p>“It’s okay, Tia.  I know I have family here, even though it’s not really family!” </p><p>The old woman smiled down at the young girl and placed a rough hand on her head, smoothing out the top of her hair. </p><p>“That’s right, sweetie.  Just remember…the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”</p><p>Gloria didn’t get it but understood the word “covenant” and thought her favorite aunt was saying something religious instead.  She just looked up at Maria, smiling and nodding in agreement. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>The day known as 16 years, 4 months, and 14 days Ago</strong>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The children were walking back to their home with the workers and other nuns from Saint Teresita after morning mass.  The sky was blue, with only a few clouds against the background.  It wasn’t too terribly hot, but the sun was shinning bright enough that Gloria wished she had some sunglasses in her small wardrobe.  She hummed the first few lines of Des Colores to herself as she walked side by side with Sister Isabella.  The nun looked down at her, smiling fondly and reaching out to hold her hand, her fidelity ring catching a bit of sunlight as she turned it.  Gloria gladly accepted the gesture, and as the volume of her humming increased, she started to skip a little.   She began looking around at her surroundings.  A few people were hanging out in the cafes that were beginning to open, smoking a cigarette or having coffee.  A couple of dogs ran past ahead of the line, causing a few of the kids to squeal with delight.  Sometimes, on days like these, the workers and nuns would stop at a cobblestone square with a beautiful that was in between the orphanage and the church and let the children play around.  They were coming into the square now and the workers at the front of the line, two ladies who couldn’t have been more than 35, stopped.  She began to jump up and down in excitement.  They were able to play here!  Sister Isabella let out a small giggle from Gloria’s excitement, and she loosened her hand, fully expecting the young girl to run up to a few of her friends at the front of the line. </p><p>“Okay niños!  You can play for thirty minutes!  Remember, don’t disturb anyone!”  The children cheered and Gloria let go of Sister Isabella’s, wanting to run up to a few of the older girls in front of the line. </p><p>“Brandi!  Felicia!  Let’s play toge-“ She ended up tripping over a cobble stone, but right before she hit the ground, a flash of blue light spread over the entire courtyard.  She fell, expecting her knees to scrape as the uniform for church days were navy blue skirts, a white t-shirt and black shoes, but when she picked up one knee, she was surprised that there were no cuts on her knee. </p><p>“I’m fine Sister…”  Shock entered her body. </p><p>The cafes that were surrounding the square had burned to the ground.  There were fires everywhere, and Gloria could feel the heat rising.  Black snow was falling from the sky, making it difficult to breathe.  She didn’t want to look on the ground. </p><p>Gloria sucked in some air, trying to breathe despite the sudden quality change in the air. </p><p>
  <em>She didn’t want to look on the ground.  </em>
</p><p>Her hands began to shake.  Her eyes started at the destroyed cafes. </p><p>There was a hand sticking out from under the ground.  Dusty and limp. </p><p>Her eyes went to the fountain.  There was no water sprouting.  It was in a complete pile of rubble. </p><p>No one was standing in front of her. </p><p>No one was standing beside her. </p><p>There was an earie silence in the streets despite the crackling of fires.  Were they just from the square?  Or were they from another area of the city?</p><p>Gloria tried sucking in another breathe, though ended up coughing furiously as she felt her lungs were also on fire.  What was going on?  Where was everybody? </p><p>She began to stand, looking at both of her knees to see if she was okay. </p><p>There weren’t any scratches on either knees. </p><p>“S-sister Isabella?”  Her voice was shaky as she decided to look behind her.  Hoping there was nothing to be seen. </p><p>She looked towards the street where they entered the square.  The corners of the buildings on either street collapsed, making it hard for anyone to enter or exit from that direction.  But Gloria felt her heart drop. </p><p>There was a nun, lying on the ground.  Light flickered on her hand that was wearing a fidelity ring. </p><p>
  <em>It could be anyone.  It could be anyone.  </em>
</p><p>It was becoming more difficult to breathe.  Gloria’s hands shook as she felt her throat. </p><p>
  <em>What’s happening?  Why am I feeling like this?  Like I can’t t-talk?</em>
</p><p>She dropped to her knees again…and began to wail. </p><p>“SISTER ISABELLA?”</p><p>There was no movement from the nun, and Gloria couldn’t get herself to move closer.</p><p>“BRANDI?  FELICIA?”  She began to look around wildly.  Some body parts were becoming visible underneath other piles of rubble, but not visible enough to identify them.</p><p>“TIA MARIA?”</p><p>No birds were singing.  No dogs ran past her.</p><p>“ANYONE?”</p><p>She was alone.  She was alone and could not understand what happened. </p><p>“PLEASE?”</p><p>Why was everything destroyed?</p><p>“HELP!”</p><p>She was alone.</p><p>“TAKE ME BACK!”</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>TIK </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“TAKE ME BACK PLEASE!”</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>TOK</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Large ticking noises rang in her ears and she covered them in pain. </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>TIK </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“I DON’T WANNA BE ALONE!”</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>TOK</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Were bricks being moved?  Looking behind her, she saw…something?  A large dark figure?  No…it couldn’t be.  No one was standing.  It was the shadows.  It was <em>just</em> the shadows! She was crying harder now.  Terrified that her mind was already playing tricks on her.</p><p>“I WANT TO GO HOME!”</p><p><em>Is that what you want? </em>A voice entered her head.  It wasn’t hers…was it?  But it was female, so it must have been hers. </p><p><em>“Wait! Are…you…?”</em>  Was there another voice shouting in the distance?  It was so hard to tell what was real.</p><p>“YES! I WANT TO GO HOME!  I WANT MY FAMILY!”</p><p>
  <em>Then…go home. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>TIK</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Gloria’s body felt hot.  Not just hot…on <em>fire</em>.  She arched her back, wailing in pain.  Blue light flashed around her again, but with golden specks this time as her surroundings became a blur.  It was like she was going back in time as everything was being rebuilt the way it should be.  The air quality changed again, and when she was able to blink and breathe, she was in the square. </p><p>Surrounded by people. </p><p>People who looked at her…strangely?  It wasn’t just the regulars at the cafes who <em>were</em> strangers to her.  Children from the orphanage, the office workers, and the nuns were looking at her in concern.  She heard someone running up behind her, placing two hands on the young girl’s shoulders.  She looked up to see Sister Isabella.  Alive.  And looking incredibly concerned.</p><p>“Gloria?  Are you all right?  Did you take a bad fall?”  Her voice was soft, but cautious.</p><p>It was music to Gloria’s ears, yet she could only cry in despair as she began to cling on to Sister Isabella, who was incredibly startled by the girl’s outburst.  Gloria heard other voices, “Gloria, do you want to play?” “It’s a pretty day Gloria!  You don’t hafta cry!”   Voices from her friends Brandi and Felicia, but that only made her cry harder.   </p><p>Sister Isabella looked up with concern at the other adults.  The office workers were clearly uncomfortable by their young charge’s outburst.  She looked over to Sister Beatriz, who was approaching with concern as well.  As the young nun embraced the child, she felt heat off of Gloria’s body.  “Oh my dear…!”  She looked to the older nun for help.  “Gloria must be feeling ill!  Her body is warmer than usual.”  Sister Sofia frowned, and touched Gloria’s forehead, her eyes widening in concern.  She looked back at the office workers.  “We’ll take her to the nearest pharmacy immediately.  She might be sick.”  The ladies at the front nodded their heads, relief crossing over them.  Then the nun looked at the two girls who were still concerned about their friend. “It’s okay.  Pray to God for your dear friend to have a quick recovery and play with the others.  I’m sure everything will be fine soon.”  They slowly nodded, still not sure what to make of the situation.  Despite Sister Isabella trying to soothe her, none of the children knew Gloria could cry so much, let alone get sick.   This scared Gloria as well.  In all the years she’s been alive, she’s never been sick.  If this was what being sick was, she hated it.  Did other children have bad dreams when they were sick, too? </p><p>
  <em>But what was a dream called when you were still wide awake?</em>
</p><p>The thought made her cry harder and clutch onto Sister Isabella’s habbit who took the girl into her arms as she stood up.  The two nuns went to the nearest pharmacy, and the situation perplexed the pharmacists.  Gloria never stopped crying, and the fever was unusually high for her age. </p><p>“Was she exposed to anything bad?”  The pharmacists asked.  The two nuns shook their heads.  “Then I would recommend taking her to the hospital immediately.”  Sister Isabella was about to speak when he held up his hand to stop her.  “Please.  This could mean a matter of life or death for the child, and there is always better equipment to do a more in-depth test, even in these difficult times.”  Sister Beatriz' lips pursed together, not happy at all about the situation, but agreed to taking Gloria to the hospital, nonetheless. </p><p>Gloria’s cries turned into whimpers and sniffles.  She wanted to calm down, but if she stopped to think for a minute, the images of death and destruction swirled around her again.  She was shivering…but she was confused as to why heat would make her cold.</p><p>The nuns stayed with Gloria at the hospital all night.  She was admitted to a small room for testing, despite the place being filled with people that were hurting or about to have surgery.  There was a couple of nurses who were in and out of the room, monitoring her temperature.  Then one doctor and two nurses…and then a different doctor and two nurses…and another doctor and two nurses…every time a new doctor entered the room and looked at a clip board, they were confused at what they saw.  Finally, a female doctor came in and stood by Gloria who was laying on small bed.  She looked up at her with hopeful eyes. </p><p>“Can…can I go home now?”</p><p>
  <em>But where IS home? </em>
</p><p> She became scared.  That was the first time that thought entered her mind.  Mexico <em>was</em> home to her…right?</p><p>
  <em>It’s just all you know.</em>
</p><p>The doctor looked at her with compassion, brushing some of her long hair out of her face.  “We need to do a few more tests sweetie.  Make sure you’re feeling better.  The nuns have left you in our care, but when we know you’re feeling better, we’ll let you go back to the orphanage.  Does that sound okay?”  Confusion entered her mind, but she tried not to let it show on her face.  Instead, she gave a small smile and nodded.  “O-okay…”</p><p>It was the first time she was made aware that the orphanage was not her home.  The church wasn’t her home and even the restaurant…</p><p>Well…she knew <em>that</em>…but it still hurt. </p><p>The doctor smiled at her response.  “Get some rest, then.  A good night’s sleep always makes me feel better!  We’ll bring you some breakfast in the morning.”  With that she left.  It was difficult to think of sleep.  There were still nurses who came to check on her every hour.  The day began to feel late.  Really late.  So she decided to close her eyes. </p><p>
  <em>I want to go home.  </em>
</p><p>Those were her last thoughts as she drifted off to sleep, hoping to find some sort of peace. </p><p>Sadly, Gloria had nightmares every night after that day in what she could only describe as…hell. <br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Present Day</em>
</p><p>"D-Dot...DOT!"  Herb began to shout for is colleague as loud as he could from the Infinite Switchboard.  He could hear heals clicking as fast as they could.  The man decided to yell again, not wanting to take his eyes off of one of the screens, "DOOOOT!"</p><p>Dot appeared in the doorway, flustered and a bit out of breath, "Herb, what's going on?  There's not going to be another apo-" but Herb just stood back a couple of steps, pointing a shaky finger at the screen he was just staring at. </p><p>"Look...I-I think I just found...something...something that <em>she</em> missed." Dot looked at him in surprise and slowly made her way to the specific screen.  Looking behind her, she waited for some instructions.  Herb gulped.  "T-turn back th-th-thirty seconds."  Her face was full of concern now but did what he told.  As she watched the events play out on the screen, she gasped...in surprise or horror, Herb couldn't tell. </p><p>"Is...is this...is she what I think she is?"  Dot looked at Herb, a smile appearing on her face.  Herb nodded slowly.  "I couldn't believe it myself but...we need to find her." Dot looked at him, confused.  "But how? She could be anywhere in time!"  This time, Herb smiled back.</p><p>"With some help from our friends."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Herb may have been voted in as the acting chairperson of the Temps Commission, but no one said this was going to be an easy gig.</p><p> </p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or storyline of The Umbrella Academy, who were created by Gerard Way.  The following story is purely fictional and is not to be associated with the main storylines in either comic or TV form.  The only claim I have is to the original characters seen within the story as they are of my own creation.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Present Now (within 1955)</em>
</p><p>Herb let out a long sigh in his new office.  Each morning, he still held his breath, waiting for the Handler to appear, screaming at him to get out of <em>her</em> office and asking for <em>her</em> stuff back.  It took Herb at least a week and a half to open the door without fearing for his life.  He looked around the room.  What was once a room with everything meticulously put in place was now covered in historical books strewn all over the floor, folders coming out of every drawer they could poke out of, and paper.  Single pieces of paper could be seen on the floor, binders of paper <em>around</em> the desk and then piles of even more paperwork on <em>top</em> of the desk. </p><p>The man knew the Temps Commission needed to have its order restored…but not like this.  He <em>had</em> hoped for a more peaceful situation, but…he let out another sigh.  “I guess peace isn’t going to be an easy option here.”  Not that he didn’t complained about the salary raise.  And the approved requests for time off every two weeks or so.  Gods only knew he and Dot deserved a break every now and then for trying to restore the Temps Commission’s order. </p><p>The process of liquidation was the first order of business.  Cuts to benefits meant low funds.  Or at least, low funds to those not in the “inner circle.”  Number Five certainly made a mess of the Board…but that seemed to be a small blessing in disguise after all.  At least, the CEO thought…Herb shuddered.</p><p>
  <em>No…no thoughts about that person.  Three more days till the next weekday work off.  Focus Herb, focus…</em>
</p><p>Luckily, the Handler’s stash of historical goodies made the liquidation easier to put together.  Cutting the metaphysics division was next.  That was definitely an area she created as a side project that even the mysterious CEO felt was “wasted expenses,” though at least two workers could be kept on if Herb felt it was necessary. And while she was responsible for killing…well…<em>all</em> of the field agents in her attempts to become the “Queen Bee” of the Commission…he let out another heavy sigh.                  </p><p>
  <em>Maybe I can take Dot out somewhere really nice…I mean…she might like me enough to say yes to a third time, right?</em>
</p><p>The body removal fee was high, but that incident placed the business more in the black than Herb had heard about in years.  It had also put an imbalance to field agents and case workers, which was the next step.  Firing people was never easy, but in the seriousness of his position and the cuts, all he could say to the 25% of case workers who were laid off were “Well…better fired in the office than out on the field, right?” with an awkward chuckle.  That normally helped ease the mood into understanding a tiny bit.  Company policy also allowed the ex-staffers to combine their vacation days and visit a timeline of their choosing.  If they didn’t want take advantage of that, then they could earn up to four months’ worth of unemployment.  Thankfully, it was a split for those who wanted a “time vacation” and unemployment, so the losses on that weren’t horrible as well.            </p><p>It was after that period of work Herb decided to muster up the courage to ask Dot out on a date.  She said yes, and Herb took her to Coney Island around the time of the 1980s.  Amusement parts were always a safe place for a first date, and it seemed she had fun.  At least she smiled a lot, and…Herb let out a small sigh thinking about it.        </p><p>
  <em>She always looks beautiful when she smiles.</em>
</p><p>He would have smiled all day just thinking about her if he hadn’t moved over to the desk.  The final step…and the cause for the current chaotic state of the office…was fixing Commission protocol.  Thankfully, that was sectioned off to other workers who were still standing.  When he was voted in, Herb decided that a Suggestions Box could be used to keep ideas opened should anyone forget something in the sections they had to see if that could help make the process smoother...but that <em>may</em> have been a mistake.</p><p>However, as Dot no longer had to worry about an impending Apocalypse, she could delegate her work into helping Herb rehabilitate the Commission.  She handled the suggestions box requests, underlined sections in the Temps Commission Protocol Handbook that needed revisions and could keep the atmosphere of the office a lot more hopeful than The Handler ever did. </p><p>All in all, Herb and Dot made a good team.</p><p>There was a stack of pamphlets on the floor of the left side of Herb’s desk that were various versions of the Temps Commission Protocol Handbook.  While they couldn’t find the very first edition of the book-or even the first 5 editions for that matter-it felt a bit of a miracle that they could start at the 6<sup>th</sup> edition and work their way from there.  So far, there have been 19 editions to the handbook, and they were mostly edited when cuts or additional rules to the field agents needed to be updated. </p><p>For instance:</p><p>In the section of Employee Health for Field Agents around the 13<sup>th</sup> edition, it stated: “In the event that a field agent is traveling to a timeline where meeting another version of one’s self was possible, please see the metaphysical division for the Paradoxical Psychosis Shot.”  Three editions later, that was cut out as health benefits were experiencing huge cuts themselves.  Herb had wondered if The Handler ended up not caring about this Paradoxical Psychosis Shot (as she became the supervisor around the time of the 10<sup>th</sup> edition and onwards…well…apart from the 20<sup>th</sup> edition).  It’s because of that rule alone that Herb kept two people of the metaphysical division on to see if they could come up with more useful creations like continuing the study of the Paradoxical Psychosis Shot instead of decade-themed candy. </p><p>The workplace violence parts also needed a heavy revisioning.  The most it said that never sat well with anyone that Herb knew in the Commission was the following section in the 14<sup>th</sup> edition: “As we are tasked of the preservation of the time continuum through manipulation and removals, it is not uncommon for employees to become targets should they become threats to the Perfect Timeline.  Compensations will be distributed should the targeted employee have any family that are not involved or do not pose as a threat despite their associations to the employee.”  The compensations were pitiful to say the least.  But in the 15<sup>th</sup> edition, that same line became: “As we are tasked of the preservation of the time continuum through manipulation and removals, it is not uncommon for employees to become targets should they become threats to the Perfect Timeline.  Compensations will be distributed should the targeted employee have any family members that are not involved.”  Then, in the 16<sup>th</sup> edition: “As we are tasked of the preservation of the time continuum through manipulation and removals, it is not uncommon for employees to become targets should they become threats to the Perfect Timeline.”  There wasn’t even anything under the compensation section about that matter. </p><p>If Herb remembered correctly, the news that the Handler adopted a little girl floated around the office during the publication of the 16<sup>th</sup> edition.  He shuddered at the thought that the revision was made in case her daughter became a liability.  It certainly wouldn’t have been uncharacteristic of her to have done so.</p><p>Mentions of a “Perfect Timeline” also didn’t appear until the 13<sup>th</sup> edition and even those two words made Herb wince.  After working for the Commission for a few years, his mind finally wrapped around the concept that time was not quite as linear as the rest of the human population made it out to be.  However, to the bulk of the human population, <em>staying linear</em> was easier to handle than the concept that events in time are happening in every second of existence.  The handbooks pre-10<sup>th</sup> edition always had the underlying message of letting time just ebb and flow.  Were there other alternate universes?  Could people produce a Butterfly Effect in their own personal realities?  Well…yes.  And yet, the balance between free will and time was still an extremely delicate matter. </p><p>Obviously, The Handler had other ideas, else Herb wouldn’t have been in the position he’s in now. </p><p>The printing of the 20<sup>th</sup> edition stopped as The Handler started her tyrannical rise to power, so it was up to him to fill in the missing gaps and edits before the Commission could start functioning “normally” again.  Yet, the discovery from a couple of hours ago had him rattled.  Why was this particular time anomaly missed?  He went through the editions, throwing a few on his desk, knocking a few high stacks of paper over.</p><p>“Oh…oh hell.”  The mini paper avalanche caused other papers to fly all over the place and the stack of editions ended up tumbling onto the floor, causing him to trip over his feet and fall with a loud thud. </p><p>“YE-OW!”</p><p>He groaned and looked up.  The fall placed him looking under the heavy wooden desk.  Herb propped himself up onto his shoulders, seeing what damage was made by the paper stacks and noticed something…odd.  There were at least four single sheets of paper sticking up from the floorboards instead of lying flat, and they seemed to be making the outline of a square. </p><p>He moved the chair away and shuffled himself over to those sheets of paper.  Not wanting to pull out every piece out and promptly forgetting where this section might be, he left one sticking out at the opposite end from him as he traced a finger around the rather unusually large cracks.  It was in fact, the shape of a square.   He quickly got to his feet and looked for the phone.  It was the one item that wasn’t taken from the office, but was always buried under paperwork.  He moved a few more stacks, causing more paper to fall off the desk.  Once he found the phone, he picked it up and dialed three numbers.  “Hello, Dot?  Can you come in here quickly?  And can you bring a crowbar?”</p>
<hr/><p>Dot was in the office within 10 minutes, crowbar in hand.  She looked quizzical at Herb as she handed it to him. </p><p>“Herb, what on earth do you need this for?”  He gestures for her to come down to the floor with him.  “Look at this!”  He traces the outline of the square, causing Dot to gasp.</p><p>He looks at her, “Did you know about this?”  She shakes her head no. </p><p>“There were a few times I could approach a bit closely to The Handler when she was a supervisor, but not close enough to get under her desk.  Did…”  She then turns to him, “Did Carmichael know?” </p><p>Now Herb shook his head no, “If he did, I don’t think he would have told me.  I only moved up the ranks-so to speak-shortly after everything collapsed.  Plus…seeing as how this would have been a secret stash for The Handler…I’d imagine he would have wanted to keep it a secret himself if he needed some kind of leverage with…whatever is in there.”  Dot nodded in agreement, but her eyes were sparkling with curiosity. </p><p>“Well…what are we waiting for?  Let’s find out what’s in here!”  Herb couldn’t help but smile at her encouragement and began to fit the flattened points into the line closest to him and pulled, but it didn’t budge.  In fact, the mysterious panel didn’t seem to open whichever way the acting chairperson placed the crowbar.  Grunting, he threw it down amongst the papers in frustration and let out a huff, “Well that didn’t work.”  Throughout all of that, Dot had been observing the panel, considering where it was situated, and an idea turned in her head. </p><p>“Herb, dear…why don’t you let me try?  I think there’s one way of doing this, but I might need your help.”  She looks at him fondly as she ends up standing up and moving the chair back to where it was. </p><p>Herb was flustered for a split second.  This was the first time he had ever heard “<em>dear</em>” come out of Dot’s mouth when speaking to him.  He scooted away from the panel as she moved the chair and sat down in it. </p><p>“What are-?” his question was short lived as she held up a finger for silence.  She looked out over the desk, towards the door, and back to the desk itself. </p><p>“If I was The Handler, and I needed something safely stored…well the place she’d spend time in the most is the perfect hiding spot.  Right under everyone’s noses…” She was speaking more to herself than to Herb, but even he had to admit that made sense.  She then took her right foot.  While the dress code became a bit more relaxed at the Temps Commission as changes were underway, this was one day Dot was glad she wore her heels instead of flats to work.  She slid the heel of her shoe in the nearest crack and felt around for a bit, pressing inwards every so often.  Then…</p><p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p><p>She paused her search, making sure she heard it correctly.</p><p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p><p>Then she looked towards Herb for confirmation that he heard it, too. </p><p>
  <em>Click</em>
</p><p>Herb smiled in response to the sound.  “Dot!  You did it!”  A shy smile spread about her lips. </p><p>“Don’t get too excited yet!  I’ll need help opening it up.  I think we might have underestimated how strong The Handler was because the panel feels surprisingly heavy.”  Herb went to get the crowbar.  It was the quickest response than agreeing with the last statement, because he always felt that the crazy woman could snap him like a twig if she ever had the chance. </p><p>“Ready Herb?”  He placed the crowbar near the panel again and nodded. </p><p>“Ready Dot!” </p><p>“Then…” <em>click</em> “<em>pull</em>!”  She grunted, trying to lift the panel up with her heel, wondering how many pilate classes The Handler had to take to get this opened with ease.  Thankfully, Herb placed the crowbar at the right time and a loud creaking sound could be heard as the panel thumped against the back of the desk. </p><p>He let out a gasp. </p><p>Dot’s smile at the victory faded as she gasped as well. </p><p>There was one small wooden box, one old Temps Commission briefcase, and a vintage, brown leather portfolio binder, all covered in a thin layered of dust.  Silence hung in the air as the two marveled at the discovery. </p><p>“What in the world…what was she hiding?”  Dot bent down to pick up the portfolio and Herb reached for the wooden box shortly after.  They didn’t dare touch the briefcase until they knew where it would take them. </p><p>Herb lightly blew the dust off the box, not caring that it fell on some budget reports.  Thankfully-or surprisingly- there was no trick opening it.  If he had to guess, The Handler probably thought she had no reason to worry about any extra security as most people were intimidated by her in some capacity.  Dot and Herb opened their items and let out a gasp in unison. </p><p>Herb found the first five editions of the Temps Commission Protocol Handbook.</p><p>Dot found The Handler’s own protocol portfolio. </p><p>Herb gulped loudly.  “Knowing about these things could lead to certain death, right?”</p><p>Dot nodded in agreement, “Probably…but we’ve made it this far working at a place like this…haven’t we?” </p><p>They looked at each other, then back to the treasures…and started digging. </p><p>Herb gingerly checked dates for the 5 editions.  Hoping it would lead to some sort of clue as to when the Temps Commission was officially started and if it had any explanations to temporal anomalies being completely missed by agent. </p><p>Dot on the other hand, was a bit confused.  The first couple of pages from The Handler’s Protocol Portfolio had numbers crossed out in a red pen such as</p><p>
  <strike>1963.1123-1</strike>
</p><p><strike>1963.1123-2</strike>     EXHAUSTED</p><p>2002.5.58.A        AQUIRED</p><p>1989.1001-8      AQUIRED</p><p>
  <strike>1955.4.23 </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>1955.10.1</strike>
</p><p>There were three papers that went on with this, with only a handful of numbers that remained and had the letters AQUIRED next to it.  Then, she came across a small, thin, short day diary and opened that up.  She shook Herb’s shoulder, “Herb listen to this!  I’m still not sure what the pages mean, but…” she cleared her voice, “Day 1 of training.  Number Five Hargreeves proves to be as useful as expected.  Killer in making, but too much remorse.” She let out a heavy sigh before continuing, “Day 8 of training.  Extermination underway.  Easy for Number Five to cooperate. Higher ups do not seem to notice or care.  Perfect.”  She looked at Herb in confusion, “Extermination of what?  Or…or of <em>who</em>?”  Herb was growing just as concerned as she was.  He was only on the 3<sup>rd</sup> edition, but there were words appearing in the handbooks he hadn’t heard before.  “I-I’m not sure but…let me find out…keep reading, Dottie.”  His hands were shaking as he picked up the very first edition of the Temps Commission Protocol Handbook.  Dot nodded and took in a deep breath before continuing, flipping the diary forward a few pages.</p><p>“Day 79.  Number Five as acclimated to the role of time assassin.  Extermination 76% completed.  These bugs were made for easy targets.  Remorse dwindling away….Day 84.  Number Five proves easy to control.  Lack of emotional intelligence.  Use of touch and false hope holds him in line.  83% completed.”  Meanwhile, Herb had one finger in the index section and was flipping pages back and forth in the other. </p><p>“Employment contract types?  No…and nothing under performance management…Maybe it’s under conflict of interest?”  The two were in their own worlds now, completely engaged in their findings as Dot flipped to the last few pages in the diary.</p><p>“Day 556.  Number Five continues to be useful.  In and out of office.”  Dot paused, re-reading that line, feeling her face turn a bit red, but continued anyways. “Loyalty to his family could be dangerous.  Yet quick tempered.  Metaphysics Division creates 1<sup>st</sup> batch of what they call “Psycho Serum.”  56% success rate on Agent Hazel.”  She repeated the words “psycho serum” quietly to herself, only glancing at Herb briefly as he was completely engaged in a section of the first edition handbook.  She decided to continue to read aloud, skipping to the last few days.  </p><p>“Day 630.  Proceed with caution.  Number Five acting distant.  2<sup>nd</sup> batch of Psycho Serum 93% successful on Agent Cha-cha…Day 631.  Number Five agrees to physical exam.  Metaphysics on standby to inject serum.  Favored chance of a full success rate due to his temperament and training. Final tests in days to come.  Day 632.  Extermination 99% completed.  Number Five proves to be the perfect killer.  Someone is missing, but next assignment will head towards Kennedy…” Dot caught her breath on the very last line of the diary.</p><p>“All according to plan.”  After reading so much detail into The Handler’s personal thoughts, she sits back down again in the chair.  She cautiously looks over to her co-worker-<em>Well…maybe I can call him my partner?-  </em>who was reading a section of the 1<sup>st</sup> edition with large eyes.  There was silence in the air again before Herb sucked in a huge breath of air after realizing he wasn’t breathing. </p><p>“Herb…?” She gently said, not wanting to startle him.  He looked at her and held the pamphlet towards her, “Dot…<em>look</em>…”</p><p>The following statement under Emergency Management read as followed:</p><p>
  <em>In the events of any temporal confusion-which could happen amid moments of chaos, injustice, and imbalance in the world-the field agents known as Menders or Miracle Workers can be contacted and dispatched to the events which need correction without exterminations.  More than likely to be artists by trade, their profession allows people en masse to come together in peace and harmony, creating a necessary balance between the flow of time and free will.  Usually work directly under the CEO or Head of Boards.  </em>
</p><p>More silence followed.  Then Dot and Herb began to speak at once.</p><p>“<em>M-menders</em>?”</p><p>“<em>Miracle workers</em>?”</p><p>“They were meant to keep the <em>peace</em>?”</p><p>“They’re placed on a higher scale than my <em>position</em>?”  Herb was on a verge of a complete freak out.  “And what the <em>hell</em> is Psycho Serum??”  After putting the book down, he put both hands on the desk and sighed again, hanging his head.  If it the Handler’s accounts weren’t so much to take in, the fact that there was actually a non-violent emergency management policy would have sounded a lot more hopeful.  Something came across his mind though. </p><p>“99% complete…” he slowly looked at Dot.  “What about the rest?”  Dot simply shook her head in resignation. </p><p>“Nothing.  The very last sentence of this book just reads “All according to plan.”  She sighed, putting a hand to the center of her forehead.  Herb was about to hang his head in resignation again when he looked down at the opened panel.  “Then…where does <em>this</em> lead to?”</p><p>Dot followed his gaze and then looked at the loose sheets of paper.  “I…may have an idea…but could it get us back?”  Herb looked at her, “If you can get a spare briefcase, we can find out.”  Thankfully, there were about 20 briefcases left in working order, and Dot was out and in again under 15 minutes.  She held up her spare briefcase.  “Ready?” </p><p>Herb gingerly lifted the old briefcase out from the panel.  There was more dust covering it than the two items combined.  Dot made her way over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.  He looked at her, she nodded, and then he opened the old briefcase. </p><p>
  <em>WHISH </em>
</p><p>As they landed, the air became hot and dry.  Hardly anything could be seen for miles except for a small farm with a measly hut and a few chickens running around.  It was also incredibly dusty, but there was something familiar about the scene.  Dot leaned over to Herb, “Are we back in Texas?”</p><p>Herb looked around and glanced nervously at the hut, “I-I’m not sure…I can’t even figure out what year-“ he barely finished his sentence before an old black man stepped out of the hut with a shotgun in hand pointing at the both of them.</p><p>“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING ON MY PROPERTY?” </p><p>The pair stepped back, completely startled by the sight.  The older man was in a rough shape.  White hair speckled across his black beard.  He was tall and thin, though his skin looked dry and ashy from what could be seen of the arms and shoulders poking out of his tattered overalls.  His face was scrunched up as he held the gun firmly in place, but upon looking at him, Herb couldn’t help but see something familiar in the man.  Despite the danger they were in, he took his chances and spoke up. </p><p>“U-um…M-M-Mister Raymond Ch-chestnut…sir?”  The mysterious man’s eyes widened and moved his gun directly at the short white man standing in front of him. </p><p>“Who the <em>fuck</em> are you?” He sputtered out, “And how the <em>hell</em> do you know my father?”</p><p>It was then that both Dot and Herb were thinking the same thing.</p><p>
  <em>Holy. shit.  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Song Suggestion: In Hell I'll Be In Good Company the Dead South</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Song Suggestion:<br/>Son de la Negra by Mariachi Vargas<br/>Des Colores by Joan Baez<br/>Time after Time by Cyndi Lauper</p></blockquote></div></div>
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